


Persian Gold: Time

by RememberPanchaea



Category: Deus Ex (Video Games), Deus Ex: Mankind Divided
Genre: Control, M/M, Sex (duh), dom!Nadir, prose, sometimes i dont wanna be direct and lewd, sometimes i want to be smokey and crude, sub!Adam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 09:33:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21408013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RememberPanchaea/pseuds/RememberPanchaea
Summary: In which Nadir's creator decides he just super wants to write some fuckin' smokey sex prose to the imagery of low and warm lights on hot summer nights.As usual, there is control and deity imagery. Because I can't quit the "titans locked in step" theme. Like a lame-o.
Relationships: Adam Jensen/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 5





	Persian Gold: Time

Honey gold fingers gliding, sliding  
over throats  
over thighs  
over sheets

Roiling, broiling, heat in the skin, the devil underneath.

He catches him with painted porcelain, streaked in ash and dreams. Cradling under his immacuately bearded jaw, they brace and they tip his head back, amidst the rocking of hips, the touch of lips against his cheek.

They part, and ivory seals against the heady, heavy, sweat-beaded rise of his pulse, hammering fresh and thick, contained. Tracing, pulling back, desert heat mingles as he

rolls  
frail, artful hips against him. Curling, coiling, sweet tension as his body gives around sandstone pillars. Carving the sky open, felling a colossus. Oil and ink, pyrite and fragile truth, as he 

buries  
into him. And his breath pulls from his chest, slick with lines that drip, drip, pattering below. His hand shifts, and ornate metal seals around carbon meant for battle. Masterwork and warmachine, both defying, rising and he

hardens  
against his belly as he surges forward. Stringing heat, linking bodies. The motion is... slow, his breath heavy. He breathes in the titan's weakness, vulnerability, trust.

The intimate dance of fragile deities and fingers sinking into thighs clutched around his waist.

Fingers flutter away from his throat, and they crawl over the fringe of beard to dip his thumb into his mouth. The pad pressed down, over teeth over tongue, quieting words and whimpered pleas

for more  
for never stopping

So he can hear the sounds he makes in his chest as he-

seals his hips to the curve of his rear,  
and exhales time

and time again on the back of a groan.


End file.
